


Trust No One

by Authorwastaken



Category: Badboyhalo, Dreamwastaken, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Sapnap - Fandom, Skeppy, Video Blogging RPF, eret - Fandom, tommyinnit - Fandom, tubbo - Fandom, wilbursoot - Fandom
Genre: Betrayl, Compass makes people evil, Gen, Minecraft, Murder, Murder Mystery, Realistic Minecraft, Secrets, Swearing, i'll add to this later - Freeform, idk how to tag this, please read this i worked really hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authorwastaken/pseuds/Authorwastaken
Summary: "What does this mean?" The boy shifted uncomfortably, dreading the answer."It means one of us is a killer."
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch, zak - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 83





	Trust No One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first book on here. I've written a lot over the years, and I'm excited to see how my work does here! Please read the prologue, it's important to the story :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the compass came to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never posted anything on here before so I'm kinda nervous lol

A year at the least. They've been trapped in this game for at least a year. Time doesn't pass like it does in the real world. At least, it doesn't feel like it.

It was supposed to be a casual game of Minecraft. Dream had invited everyone to his server, spent hours making sure things wouldn't lag, spent a few more arranging a meeting time for the group, only for things to go down hill within minutes. He vividly remembered that afternoon. He opened the game smoothly, and upon entering his server was blinded by a bright light. He had closed his eyes for barely a moment, but when they opened he was no longer sitting in his chair; He was lying on the grass of a plains, surrounded by the others. Every last one of them had been sucked into this hell hole: Dream, George, Sapnap, Bad, Skeppy, Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, and Eret. None of them had been spared. 

At first, the air was full of panic. Tommy was continuously screaming, keeping as close to Tubbo, Wilbur and Eret as he could. Bad had been on the verge of tears, anxiously rubbing his arms. Skeppy tried to calm the man down while simultaneously taking care of his own anxieties. Dream and George immediately began searching for the exit button, and Sapnap left to get wood. He knew they would be there for a while, and night was rapidly approaching. 

It took hours, but eventually everyone became still enough to recognize the severity of their situation. Mobs were coming, and they were in a field with nothing but some logs. Their hunger was depleting at a steady pace. They needed somewhere to stay. 

And so, with their fifteen logs and single stick, they built a four by four box. All nine of them holed up inside. It had been the worst night they had ever faced. Everyone sat with their knees to their chests, struggling to breathe as the sounds of the evening haunted them. The continuous groaning of zombies, followed by the scratching of those trying to infiltrate their hide away. Spiders hissed and skeletons mocked them by shaking their bones violently, every now and again plucking the string of their bow loudly. The deathly quiet steps of a passing creeper ringing in their ears. 

Knowing a single block of wood was all that stood between the men and certain death was terrifying. Even Dreams breath quivered behind his mask, hands gripping each other tightly. No one knew what to do. The only human noise was a soft whimper or the hitch of someones breath when a particularly loud moan echoed in the tiny 'home'. 

Although that night had stuck with all of them, no one dared to speak of it. Instead, they began to expand their hut, adding wall after wall until a real house stood before them. They had all been proud of their build, taking turns selecting rooms and decorating to match their tastes. In a matter of weeks they had a farm, living room, pathways, storage buildings, docks; everything they could need to leave peacefully. Life was nice. 

Of course, they always tried to think of a way out. Originally, everyone thought killing the Ender Dragon would bring them home. They planned on attacking within their first month, but after Tubbo and Tommy had an incident with a few monsters, everyone decided they were no where near ready to fight the beast. 

So they settled down. Automated everything, spent their free time exploring, traded with villagers, mined anything they could. It was serene. Everything felt normal. They started to forget their lives outside the game. It was obvious this simple lifestyle was greater than the real world, and no one was in a rush to get back. 

However, like most things, the peace didn't last. 

Dream knew things were too good to be true. There had to be some kind of problem.

About eight months into their new lives, Dream, George, and Sapnap left base in search of bees. Tubbo had mentioned making a honey farm, and Bad jumped on the idea. It didn't take long for Tommy and Skeppy to push for the farm, encouraging the rest of the players to join in. The nearest Flower Forest Biome was about a thousand or so blocks away. So, the Dream Team packed their inventories, saddled their horses, and headed towards the hives. It wasn't their first long trip, so nobody thought much of it. 

When they arrived, George took to distracting the bees with flowers while Dream harvested their nests. He made sure one or two bugs were inside before tucking it away. He felt uneasy carrying the insects in his pocket, especially since they inflict poison damage. Dream had faced a witch earlier and was dealt a bottle of poison. The experience is one he would prefer not to repeat.

Sapnap pulled out his crafting table, swiftly throwing some iron and redstone together to make a compass. He figured it would make returning home easier and would negate the need to constantly check a map. The moment his fingers wrapped around the object, he felt the wind leave his lungs. 

All sound was gone. His vision darkened. A feeling of dread wrapped around his heart as he gasped. He felt powerful. He felt enraged. He felt wronged. He felt like a god. Vague thoughts stuffed his head like cotton balls, preventing him from focusing on anything other than the tool. His eyes locked on the compass, watching its hand spin around and around as if trying to hypnotize him further. It was whispering to him; telling him things he shouldn't listen to. 

It told him how much stronger he was than the others. It stated how they looked down on him. It explained that he was being held back by his friends. It questioned his sanity. It expressed it's sympathy for the boy. It talked and talked, filling him with empty praises. It was right. He wasbetter than them. Dream didn't deserve that fame, he did. He was stronger than George. He was stronger than Dream. He was smarter. Faster. _Superior._

"Hey, did you bring the steak? I'm a bit low on health and all I have is bread..."

George walked towards Sapnap, digging around awkwardly in his inventory. Dream was still a ways away, cutting nests from the oak trees and trying his best to not get stung, so George couldn't ask him. 

Sapnap's head snapped up to his 'friend'. The two locked eyes, and George stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at him in horror, a hand shooting to hover over his mouth at the sight. 

His eyes were wide and blood shot. His pupils were dilated, glaring a hole in Georges head. His fingers clawed the metal of a compass, its hand spinning fast as if preparing to take off.

"S-..Sapnap?" 

There was a soft _click_ as the needle suddenly stopped. Both looked at it, one boy full of terror and one full of interest. 

It was pointed directly to George, shaking intensely as the magnet strained to reach the brunette. Sapnap could feel it pulling him towards George. It tugged on his arm, urging him to move forward. A wave of anger crashed down on the man. The feeling ran through him, buzzing like electricity. It warped his brain; the need to harm clouded his judgement. All he could see was George. He wanted to scream, punch, stab. He wanted to kill. He wanted to kill George. He _needed_ to kill George. 

His imagination wandered, picturing the warm feeling of Georges blood running through his fingers. He could practically feel his sword glide through the older's flesh. The sound of steel on bone as he mercilessly chopped into the bleeding body played in his mind.

Sapnap pivoted, taking off in a dead sprint towards the other. With the hand not clutching the compass, he unsheathed his sword. The weapon shone in the sunlight as purple waves rippled across the blade. Tubbo had given him the sharpness II sword as a gift just days ago. Ironically, the item was given as a peace offering. 

George stood in disbelief, frozen in a mix of fear and confusion. It wasn't until Sapnap let out a guttural growl did he snap to attention. He stumbled backwards, taking a few clumsy steps before turning and fleeing. He pushed through the branches dangling from trees, hissing as cuts littered his arms from the stray sticks. His breathing was loud and ragged, beads of sweat running down his face. He wondered if the perspiration was from the distress or physical activity. He couldn't think straight enough to figure it out. 

The sound of Sapnap's aggressive movements trailed him, each step sending a spike of panic through his stomach. He knew he couldn't fight him on his own, especially with a sword like that and no shield. He was already low on health and doubted he could take more than a single hit. His options were dwindling the longer he ran. Only one idea formed in his head through the haze of alarm. 

He took in a deep breath, and screamed for his partner. He felt the name rip through his throat like glass, the sound scratching every inch. "DREAM!"   
Terror dripped from his voice, clinging to the word as it reverberated across the forest. His own ears stung from the volume, and he knew they must've heard it. 

As he opened his mouth to let out another beg for help, he felt something hit his back, knocking him to the ground. 

Sapnap had dove for the boy, gripping him tightly. George struggled, trying desperately to pry the murderous man off him. He swung his fist, grunting as he repeated the action and missed every time. Sapnap straddled his hips, pinning him to the ground. He stared down at his squirming friend with fury. Smacking his hands away, his compulsion to harm grew.

He bared his teeth as his hands wrapped around George's neck, squeezing until his knuckles grew white. He could feel his victims throat contracting as it tried hopelessly to get air. His hands began to bleed, George's nails digging into the skin as he clawed at them. His eyes looked like they were ready to pop out of his head, and his face was turning a redish-purple. 

Sapnap pulled the neck up before slamming it back down, watching as the brunettes skull collided with the ground. White glasses fell from his hair, landing upside down in the dirt. As he watched the oxygen slowly drain from his body, he felt his scowl twist into a toothy grin. Who knew murder was this satisfying?

Before he could celebrate further, George reared back a hand and clocked Sapnap in the jaw. The sudden hit forced the younger to remove his hands so he could hold the injury. George's airways expanded, sore from being clenched shut for so long. He greedily gasped for air, the burning in his chest subsiding. The fog in his mind dissipated, and he began to see clearly. His gaze snapped up to his attacker, a new fear falling on him. 

If he was angry before, he was seething now. Sapnap's eyes were wide with insanity. In a flash, he picked up his sword and brought it down on George. The tip penetrated his lower right side, slicing through flesh and muscle. At once, blood gushed out of the wound, staining his shirt and running down his side to form a puddle under him. 

George threw his head back, crying out in pain and shock. He could feel every inch of the weapon inside him. Every movement it made sent intense spikes of agony shooting through his stomach. He grunted as Sapnap ripped the knife out of him, bringing it back down into his chest. He coughed, blood trickling down his chin. He knew it penetrated his lung by how painful every breath was. The only sound was the bloodcurdling scream George let out as he felt the sword twist around in the wound. 

Sapnap was a horrifying sight. Georges blood was smeared across his hands and arms. His face was covered in the red drops, giggling as the blood splattered across his skin again. The ends of his white head band were dyed as they dangled over the body below him. The sound of George's labored breaths was music to his ears, and his screams of suffering only added to his joy. He had been sure to stab him in places that wouldn't kill him right away. He needed to have his fun with him first; make him pay for everything he had done to him. He yanked his sword out of his body, noticing how it shimmered with enchantment even when doused in gore. 

All George could think about was the pain. It was everywhere. It over powered all of his senses until all he thought of was how much he wanted it gone. He watched Sapnap raise his arm again, and wanted to burst into tears thinking of a new injury. He needed help, but it never came. 

Before Sapnap could stab George a third time, he was lifted off him and thrown to the side. He grunted as he hit the ground, turning his head to see who manhandled him so easily. 

Dream stood between the two in a defensive stance, trying to protect the broken boy as best he could. He was panting heavily, shoulders hunched from the strain of running. He had bolted in the direction of Georges scream the moment it sounded, and made it just in time to watch Sapnap stab the boy for the second time. He was beyond enraged, his eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell are you doing?!" He yelled, observing as the other pushed himself up. 

George tried to do the same, but only hissed at the pain. He was no doubt under two hearts, but he had no food to heal himself with. His hand pressed to his chest wound, trying to stop the bleeding in hopes it would subside the pain. He coughed aggressively, unsurprised to see a glob of blood escape his mouth. Everything hurt.

He turned his head to watch the altercation, scared to see the outcome. Both his friends were filled with anger, and he knew neither would give up. His eyes trailed to Sapnap, staring at the compass clutched in his hand. His breath hitched; It was the compass. It had to be. No one had ever crafted one before on this server. The creation of one must've triggered some plugin the team had forgotten. Sapnaps not angry; He's the hunter.

"You could've killed him!" Dream continued to bellow, motioning behind him at an unresponsive George. 

"That's the point," Sapnap snarled, lunging at the new enemy. He expected the taller to be an easy fight like George had been.

Unlike George, Dream was able to push his feelings aside long enough to focus on the conflict. He forced himself to see Sapnap as a foe, allowing him to fight more efficiently. He sidestepped the attack, grabbing his opponents arm in an attempt to disarm him. 

Dream was more experienced in PvP than Sapnap. The compass can lie to him all day, but it doesn't change the fact that Dream will always surpass him in battle. Sapnap fights with emotion and impulse, while Dream fights with strategy and skill. Even when the game was realistic, Dream was better at fighting than any of them. 

George knew the force driving Sapnap had no concept of exhaustion or pain. No matter the blow, he'll come back like nothing happened, even if his body is screaming. He hoped this was the truth. He refused to believe his childhood friend would suddenly want to slaughter him. 

Taking out his own sword, he hit Sapnap up the head with the hilt. Even though he knew he wasn't fighting his friend, he couldn't bring himself to hurt him badly. His plan was to get the other unconscious so he could tend to George. It was obvious he was in bad shape, and his whimpers of pain were becoming unbearable. 

Sapnaps body crumbled, landing in a ball on the grass. He made no noise to acknowledge the injury. Instead, he swept his sword under Dreams feet and knocked him to the ground. Wasting no time, he pounced on his friend, attempting to stab him. 

They wrestled ruthlessly. Every now and again control would shift to one man, but it never stayed that way for long. George could only watch as the blonde was shoved into the dirt, two knees digging into his abdomen kept him from moving. His hands pressed against the legs, inhaling through his teeth from the discomfort. 

The hand cradling the Compass was pressed against Dreams chest to secure him to the floor. Sapnap raised his sword, aimed for the neck. His goal wasn't to inflict pain; It was to kill. 

Dream's hand snapped up to grip the others wrist. He held the sword in place with everything he had, jaw clenched. He was quickly understanding this was a fight to the death, and one wrong move meant the end of his and George's life. The two stayed this way, eyes locked in a sick stalemate. A line of sweat ran down Sapnaps head as he used every muscle to try and force the blade down. Dream did the same, heaving as he pushed up. This was no longer a game of skill, but a game of stamina.

"Dream..." George coughed, weakly waving his hand to catch his eye. "Dream! The compass!" His throat stung with every word as he called to his friend. 

Dream's eyes darted between the weapon descending upon him to the bleeding boy. His brain came to same conclusion as George in a matter of seconds. He glanced down to the compass pressed against his hoodie, and then back to Sapnap. He ran through several plans, trying to find one that wouldn't end in his death. 

His gaze hardened, shifting from panicked anger to sharp focus. George knew he had come up with something. 

As his grip on the knife tightened, Dream let out what can only be described as a battle cry. He redirected his force, moving the sword very suddenly to the left before letting go. It dipped swiftly into his shoulder, a stream of red moving from the wound. He bared his teeth, gasping in pain. His muscles tensed at the sudden intrusion. 

Sapnap stopped his movements, watching with childish interest the blood change his green hoodie to a dark, almost black crimson. He shifted the sparkling sword around, urging more of the liquid to leak out. 

Trying his best to ignore the white hot pain enveloping him, Dream's back arched involuntarily. He reached his right arm up to his chest and ripped the compass from Sapnaps hand. The others nails dragged along the metal as he removed it. Without skipping a beat, he chucked the contraption deep into the forest. 

The man above him relaxed, his body close to limp. Sapnaps eyelids fluttered as his head lolled down, hanging loosely from his neck. He shot up straight and gasped, eyes wide with confusion. 

Dream lifted his legs, placing both feet on Sapnaps chest. He kicked him off, sending him flying back against a nearby tree. His sword was still tightly held in his hand, but he seemed to be unaware of the blood painted on it. Dream stood swiftly, hand clutching the gushing gash. His breathing was heavy and uneven as he stared down the confused. 

"Ow, god, what was that...for..?" Sapnap looked up at the green man with fear. Why was he so angry with him? Why was he hurt? He raised his hand to cover his mouth but froze. His hands were drenched in sticky, bright red blood. It was warm, dripping down his fingers. All he could do was stare in horror. He looked down to his bloodied sword, and threw it from him with an exasperated cry. It was everywhere: In his hair, on his shirt, on his head band, on his hands, face, pants. He couldn't escape it.   
His panicked frenzy only grew worse at the sight of George lying in a pool of the substance, chest rising and falling shakily with drawn breaths. 

"George," He got up, rushing to his elders side, but was stopped by Dream. 

"Don't move." He spat harshly. Even if he tried to hide it, his pain and exhaustion was evident. 

Sapnaps eyes flickered from the profusely bleeding wounds on George to the one on Dreams shoulder. He didn't understand. His friend was hurt, he needed to help him. How could Dream keep him from saving his friend? His mind was running a million miles an hour, fueled with adrenaline and fear. He's never seen the other look at him like this. "He's hurt!" He called, motioning to George. "Let me help him-." 

"No. Step back, Sapnap." Dream felt pity for him, but he wasn't sure if he was in the right mindset yet. He couldn't risk anything happening to George- he's already on the brink of oblivion. 

Flabbergasted, he stumbled back. He still hadn't put the pieces together. "I-, Look just," He dug through his inventory with trembling hands. "Give him this at least. You take one too." He held out a health potion and two enchanted golden apples. He always carried some on him in case something like this happened. What ever this was. 

Dream looked at the items in his hand. The bottle had a streak of smeared blood from his fingers. So did the apples. It made him sick he couldn't tell if it was George's blood or his own. "Drop them." 

Sapnap scoffed in astonishment before gently placing them on the ground and backing away. He had his hands out to the side as if signaling surrender. 

The blonde practically dove for the healing items, hurrying to Georges side and dropping to his knees. Gently, he placed his hand on the boys back, sitting him up to lean against the trunk of a tree. He uncorked the bottle, pinkish fumes escaping through the top. It smelled sweet and sharp like some kind of soda. The liquid sparkled through the glass.

He brought the edge to Georges lips, tilting it back and letting the drink run down his throat. The shorter could barely lift his arms, and as much as he hated it, what Dream was doing was necessary. He felt the tingle of the potion as it worked its way through his body. Slowly, his wounds closed, leaving behind rough scars. The bleeding steadily stopped, allowing him to hack up the remainder in his lungs. After Dream had poured about half into him, he was able to reach up and finish it on his own. 

The moment George was able to take care of himself, Dream bit into an enchanted apple. He greedily scarfed it down, relishing in the feeling of absorption and regeneration. As his wound healed, it sent shivers down his spine. He's done this hundreds of times, but watching the skin reattach itself will never be normal. His breathing grew normal, having finally caught his breath. He turned his head back to the ex-killer. 

Sapnap just stood, mouth opened slightly as he tried to figure out what was going on. He looked to the sword lying a few yards away, to his hands, to the large stains covering George's shirt. "Did...Did I do this?" He dreaded the answer. 

George only nodded, hands gripping where his injuries had been. "It was the compass." He rasped. "It had to be." 

It took a while of explaining, accusing, and yelling, but eventually the three had some sort of understanding as to what happened. When Sapnap shared his story, they knew it was the compass that caused the bloody altercation. None could figure out _why_ it had happened, as George didn't remember putting a plugin on the server before they had been trapped. 

They were certain of one thing: the compass had to go. There was debate on how to do so. Sapnap wanted to cast it into a lava pit, George wanted to crush it and Dream wanted to leave it on the forest floor. Following discussion, the three decided the best course of action was to bury it. This way, they would know where it is at all times and be able to keep an eye on it. It seemed like the safest option at the time. 

Using his sleeve, Dream picked up the tool, holding it out as far as he could. He wanted nothing to do with the blood-coated object. He sighed, dropping it into the pack on his horse, glad it was out of sight. 

The trio was extremely shaken up. The ride home was silent. Every now and then a sorrowful apology from Sapnap pierced the air. The image of his best friend stabbing him played like a tape in George's mind. It haunted him every time he closed his eyes. He couldn't help but softly flinch away when the raven-haired boy looked at him too fast or made any motion or movement towards him. 

Once they made it back safely, Dream hesitated to announce their arrival. They brought their horses to the Birch forest that neighbored their base, and began to dig a hole. Sapnap crafted a chest and placed it at the bottom, holding it open while Dream tossed the compass inside. They filled the ditch in and marked the spot with a single piece of stone. 

They never told the others about the events that took place. The last thing Dream wanted was for people to turn on Sapnap. It was easier this way. Its better if the others think nothing can disturb their new lives. 

And so, for the next five months the compass sat undisturbed in its tomb. Dream, George, and Sapnap had all but forgotten about the cursed object. They stopped checking its grave, stopped staring out the window at the treeline, stopped questioning everyone who entered the forest. Things were back to normal. 

But normal never lasts.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue how to use tags so if you guys have any tips for me, comment them!


End file.
